


The Purge

by CrowKing



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Murder, One Shot, Violence, everything that goes with ramsay, purge inspired, sequel to one shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 21:44:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20713016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrowKing/pseuds/CrowKing
Summary: Written as a sequel to You Made Me (https://archiveofourown.org/works/15725820) This modern day story is about Ramsay and Lily Bolton's descendant, Royce Bolton, as he spins a tale of one particular night that would change everything for the Bolton family.





	The Purge

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone. You could say i'm back, but I've taken so many hiatuses who knows at this point? (that's a joke on me.) I'm slowly getting my life together and things are starting to feel good and be good again. Wanted to post this because Halloween is my fucking favorite.

Students gathered in a tight-knit group in the middle of the parking lot. Mrs. Easton’s first year of teaching history at North Hill High School was going really well. She had become a fast favorite among students with her interesting takes on history. Today, she brought them to a historical monument for Halloween for a spooky story or two.

“Royce! It’s good to see you!” Mrs. Easton said, all smiles. She tipped her red-rimmed glasses and Royce tipped his black rimmed ones. A common greeting between two history major alumni from Westeros University.

“Good to see you too, Layne!” they embraced as old friends do. “Is this your class?”

“It is!”

“They look like a good group of kids,” Royce put his hands on his hips. “Hate to scare them.”

“Not everyone has ancestry of awful, scary people,” Layne laughed. She turned her attention to her kids. “Every gather ‘round! I want you to meet a good friend of mine. This is Royce. He owns the Dreadfort.”

“Uh uh. My father owns the Dreadfort. I’m just the history nerd of this place.”

“I heard serial killers lived here!” one of the teens shouted.

“Quite a few actually,” Royce Bolton laughed. “Shall we begin? I’m sure my ancestors would love to meet you all.”

“Whoa wait, is this pace haunted?” a girl asked. 

“Paige, that’s not—

“It’s alright, Layne.” Royce took over. “There are a few ghosts that haunt The Dreadfort, but before we go in let me ask you guys some questions. What do you know about the Dreadfort?” One teen raised his hand.

“A lot of people died here at the hands of one of your uh, ancestors.”

“Nah dude. He ain’t even human,” his friend cut in. “I watched a youtube video about this dude. He was an animal.”

Royce clapped his hands and laughed. “Careful, he’s my great, great, great, great grandfather. Lord Ramsay Bolton has a bloody history.”

“You’re a direct descendant?” the same girl asked. “That’s so fucked up. He had kids?”

“He had a whole family,” Royce gestured to himself. “Obviously. The seed is strong.”

“He was a vampire, right? That means you’re a vampire too.” Royce laughed even louder. 

“We’re gonna put those silly rumors to rest. Let’s get inside the horror house, yeah?”

Royce took the field trip group inside the Dreadfort and started showing them historical aritifacts. How people, especially low borns, lived at the Dreadfort. Outside, everything was placed carefully as if people still lived there. Weaponry hung polished and perfect in the armory. Bedrooms still had original bedsheets and blankets mimicking what it was like to sleep there, including the temperature of the rooms.

“It’s so cold here, what the fuck?”

“Language, Tyrone,” Layne reminded him. 

“Sorry, Mrs. Easton. Was it cold here all the time?”

“Yes and no. Fortresses and castles never had central heating and air. They relied on fireplaces and windows to control the temperature of the rooms.”

“Sounds awful,” a girl snapped a pic of outside the window. “Was everyone who lived here miserable?”

“No. In fact, Lady Bolton quite enjoyed the cold.”

“Lady Bolton? Ramsay’s wife? He had a wife?” Tyrone looked confused.

“Yes, again! He had a whole family. Follow me,” Royce took the group to the private dining hall in the Dreadfort. A family portrait of the Boltons stood above the grand fireplace. Roose Bolton stood over them all with Lady Walda by his side. She cradled a small bundle in her arms. Below them was Ramsay and a redheaded girl. The redhead girl’s eyes followed you throughout the room no matter where you stood.

“Is that her? She looks like Hell.”

“She was. Her name is Lilith. Lily for short. She started as a servant for the Boltons.”

“A servant marrying into a noble family? How scandalous!” a girl with glasses laughed. “How did she do it?”

“Lord Ramsay likes redheads. He was interested in her from the beginning. He had many lovers and female servants, but she stuck. She followed his orders to a T. He made her.”

“What do you mean, he made her?” the same vampire commenting teen asked. Royce gestured for all of the teens to sit. They took seats around the dining hall, taking in the wooden dining table and the plush chairs. Royce pulled at curtains, darkening the room around the teens. A smirk hid on his face. The fire was the only source of light in the room. A teen kept a tight grip on his switchblade hidden inside his hoodie.

“What’s all of this?”

“It’s storytime,” Royce sat at the head of the table. “What, are you too scared?” The teen loosened his grip and shook his head. 

“Nah. I’m good.”

“Let me tell you the story of Ramsay, Lily, and the first ever recorded purge night.”

“Like the movie? The Purge? Are you serious? That happened?”

“It starts with Lady Bolton up there. Walda had that portrait made for her baby. She took her duties as mistress of the Dreadfort very seriously. Once she had the portrait made, she hung it up for all to see. She was proud to be a Bolton despite their ugly reputation. Ramsay, on the other hand, hated the beautiful painting.” Royce looked into the fire, letting imagination take over. He saw his great, great, great grandfather pace the room.

Ramsay stopped in front of the painting again. He scowled at it. Once he turned, he bumped right into Lily. 

“Gods!” Ramsay stepped back. “You’re too quiet. You know that?”

Lily pointed to her ruined tongue, something of his doing. 

“Right. Sometimes I regret doing that to you. But then I remember you forced me into doing it. You’ve never lied to me since. And you won’t ever again.” Ramsay caressed her cheek. Lily gave him a smile, but looked to the painting before them.

“I hate it. Her child is above me. I should be the rightful heir. I hate her. I hate him,” Ramsay’s attention turned back to Lily. “I haven’t taught you how to assassinate someone yet.” Lily smiled, picking up what he was implying. She pointed to a guard passing by the room.

“Good. Good question. Walda and the baby are guarded, but I have an idea. Follow me.”

Lily’s red hair flowed behind her, standing out against the soft snow. Their hands brushed against one another’s. Lily was aware of her feelings for her teacher and master. She had often stayed up long nights writing out how she felt, but would always throw it away in the morning. He and Myranda had killed Violet together. She had hoped for that same chance with Myranda. 

Still, Myranda stood by his side when Ramsay had gathered the Bastard’s Boys and other bloodthirsty soldiers around him.

“I think it’s time that my father and his wife should be relieved of their duties a rulers of this great house. My father has forgotten his ancestral traditions. Our family used to live like kings. Now, we lived by the grace of the Starks in the North in this pile of shit.” Several guards and boys nodded their heads. 

“How do we assassinate him?” someone stupidly asked.

“Don’t use that word,” Myranda scolded. “We cannot be found out before we even start.” Myranda was right. Lily knew. Lily looked out at all of the men. Anyone here would die for Ramsay, not her. She lived for him. As did Myranda.

“We will purge tonight,” Ramsay ordered. “Each one of us will purge ourselves all night long and start anew when we see dawn. After that, we all have a clean slate to carry this house into the future where it belongs, as rulers of the North.”

The idea was too delicious to pass up. Soon, word spread in the nearby villages in quiet whispers. No word had reached Roose’s ears. The Bastard’s Boys reported nothing to their lord. Dusk settled into the Dreadfort’s stones, cooling them off from the day. A single guard took his post for the night. As he sat down, an arrow shot through his ear, killing him instantly.

Another traitor guard took his place and yanked his arrow from his head. He used the bloody arrow again and shot it through a Bolton banner. After seeing the sign, the purge began. 

Lily used Ramsay’s daggers at his blessing and slashed her way up to Walda’s room. Myranda followed her, giving her cover and defending her if need be.

“Don’t hold it like that,” Myranda instructed. “Always point the blade out.” Lily narrowed her eyes at the girl. She knew that. She wanted to speak poison back to her, but her stump allowed her only an angry mumbling. Myranda touched her shoulder.

“It’s alright to be nervous. I was too. You’re not alone.”

Lily opened the unguarded, locked door easily. One could claim she had a talent for locks, but no one ever saw her unlock a locked door. It only just opened. Inside the room sat a terrified mother and her infant.

“Please,” Walda begged. “Please spare him. I’ll run off. I won’t ever say anything to anyone. Please!” Lily removed her sympathy several years ago when her own mother left her behind for dead. The dagger sunk into her chest before she could beg more. As Walda took her last breath, Lily could hear screams from inside the Dreadfort. The Purge had taken full effect.

Myranda took the babe into her arms. She calmed him down and smiled down at him. Annoyed, Lily attempted to take the babe from her. Myranda stepped away.

“You don’t have to do this,” she told Lily. “Whatever Ramsay told you to do. You can say no. I know a woman in a nearby village who can take him far away from here.” Lily cocked her eyebrow. Myranda planned this.

Lily moved forward again. Myranda stepped away. “I draw the line at children. Just go and tell Ramsay he’s dead.”

“Who’s dead?” Ramsay appeared behind Myranda. Seeing the squirming infant in her arms, he turned his sights to Lily. “Kill him.”

“No,” Myranda said. 

“Did you just—

Ramsay was interrupted by a cut to his face. Blood dripped down his cheek. His anger rose to his chest. “You cut me.”

“Let me take the baby.”

“As long as he breathes, I will never be Lord.”

“Do you think I care?” Myranda shot back. “I’m taking him.” As she pushed past Ramsay, something came over Lily. Seeing Ramsay hurt by his lover, him being told no, it switched something inside. Something she had been hiding this entire time. 

Lily jumped on Myranda’s back, sinking her teeth into her neck. It sent all three of them down the stairs, crushing the baby. Myranda tasted so good. Lily had wondered. Myranda never drank, never smoked, and only ever had one sexual partner. Myranda was a feast waiting for the right vampire. 

Lily had torn her shoulder apart, reaching some vital arteries. Myranda was already dead when Ramsay had reached the bottom of the stairs. He took in the scene around him. He heard people screaming from other rooms, but this one was quiet. The only sound was Lily’s mouth slurping and swallowing Myranda’s blood and flesh. 

The baby laid face down on the stairs, blood pooling around him like a red king. 

“How long?” Ramsay asked. “How long have you been this way?”

Lily lifted herself from Myranda and drew on the floor in front of her. Blood and dirt formed the number fourteen. 

“You’ve been a vampire all this time you’ve been with my family? That’s why you’ve never aged. Are you a threat?”

Lily shook her head no.

Ramsay looked to the baby. “You are loyal to me. Prove it. Eat the baby.”

Lily crawled over to the infant. As she picked up the infant, blood dripped from his face to the ground. Lily turned the small body over in her hands. Her teeth sank into the baby’s chest. She ate his heart while keeping eye contact with Ramsay. Ramsay could feel gooseflesh taking over his arms. 

He had a vampire who was loyal to him. He wasn’t glad or angry. He was scared. He swallowed his fear and kept his eyes on Lily.

“You are more loyal to me than anyone I know. Why? You could kill us all.” Lily dropped the infant. It made a thudding sound on the ground. She drew with her bloody fingers again.

Love.

“You love me? Has our time together given you affection towards me?” Ramsay laughed. He watched Lily’s face fall. “No, no, no. Not like that. I’m only shocked.”  
Ramsay kneeled down to Lily’s level. His knees cover in the baby’s blood now. He took her face and brought her close to him. “You’re my secret now. No one will know. I will keep you safe.”

“After that night, Lord Ramsay took over and married her. They had four children together and ruled together,” Royce smiled as he finished his story.

“I told you they were fucked up. Who marries a girl after she eats a baby? Like who?”

“Tyrone—

“Language. I know, but still! For real.” Royce stood up and laughed. He walked towards the door. 

“Family was very important to my great, great, great grandfather.”

“You keep saying that,” spoke up the know-it-all. “Lord Ramsay Bolton ruled in like the 16th or 17th century right? It’s 2019. Wouldn’t he be like your great grandfather times infinity?” Other students snickered at the joke. Royce snickered too as he locked the door.

“No. Lord Ramsay Bolton is only my great, great, great grandfather. That’s how bloodlines work. Just as Lady Lily is my favorite grandmother.”

“That’s sweet of you to say about someone you never met.” Mrs. Easton walked towards Royce. Royce turned to her with glowing red eyes. 

“What do you mean? My grandmother’s right behind you.” Mrs. Easton and her students turned to a gruesome sight. There was Lady Lily Bolton. Her sunken eyes and older bones crawled on the wall towards the family portrait. Students scrambled behind Mrs. Easton for safety. 

Mrs. Easton looked to her old friend. “Royce—

“Shut up, Layne. You were always too damn perfect for this world.”

“The kids!”

A singular hiss came from Lily. Her white hair parted so the teens could see her stump salivating and pulsating in her mouth. Royce walked towards his favorite grandmother. 

“I really hate kids. They always mess up everything, don’t they?”

**Author's Note:**

> As always! Thanks for reading! If you'd like to see more from me, ask me a question, or whatever. here's my tumblr : https://crowkingwrites.tumblr.com/


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